6. Three Months
Three Months
AMORY
June. The Moonlight Diner.
I glanced out the Moonlight’s window front. Pinks and purples flooded the streets with sunset, darkness simmering up from the asphalt. Soon, the windows would be mostly reflective apart from the city lights and the Pride partiers who were decked out brightly and out and about this Friday, hopping from one concert and open mic to another.
Our grand reopening had happened four weeks ago, and while I still admired the shiny newness of the place every day, my routine had come back to me pretty quickly. Except…
“Watchoo doing?” Rae asked. They had gone for the pants and shirt uniform today but had kept their sparkling eyeshadow. They were new, Soyer’s hire, and they and I didn’t quite yet have that easy kind of routine and understanding that came from working with the other person for a long time. I was sure we were getting there though.
I put my phone away and pointed. “Salt shakers.”
About half of them were lined up on the counter in front of me, and I’d found the little funnel I preferred using, which was still the same as before the remodel. I was making use of a small lag in incoming patrons, refilling the shakers now.
Rae pointed at my face. “Don’t blink those pretty blue eyes at me. You were on your phone. You were—” They paused for drama. “ Slacking .”
I started with the salt. “I was just glancing at my phone for a second.” To see if Soyer had texted.
They sniffled. “You are making me take care of all these patrons by myself.” With a move that was as elegant as it was quick, they put their foot up on the counter. The high heel rainbow plateaus shimmered at me. “And in these heels!”
“Jeez, Rae, get your shoes off the counter. We serve food here.”
Ben, who followed me around these days, most likely on Soyer’s orders, huffed out a half laugh, which made me look at the corner of the counter he had claimed. He usually just sat there, quiet as a very big mouse, sipping whatever I gave him to sip, iced tea today.
“The werewolf gets me,” Rae said, pulling their foot off the counter.
“Ssh!”
They rolled their eyes and pointed. “Table one. Roland. Not scared of werewolves. Table seven. The Marys. Not scared of werewolves. Table eleven. Liam and Dave, who know werewolves—dare I say—in the biblical sense, and table fourteen.”
Table fourteen was a buff guy with glitter makeup on his face and a loosely fitting tracksuit, the kind that made me wonder what he was wearing underneath it.
“What about table fourteen?” I asked, whispering.
“I think he changed his stage name.” Rae scratched their head.
“Huh?”
“Used to be Cinnamon, right? Or wait, Buttercup?” Ben stirred his iced tea with the metal straw, making the ice cubes clink.
Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw movement. Moments later, Table Fourteen was leaning against the counter and glaring first at Ben, then focusing his glare on Rae.
“It’s Grenadine, and you fucking know it. So what? We doing it or what? You said you’d talk to—” his voice dropped to a whisper, “the Black Shuck’s human.” Which was me. He didn’t meet my eyes once.
Rae pointed at me again. “You’re interrupting. I’m doing that. Look. He’s talking, and I’m talking to him.”
“Kid, everything okay out there?” Dwayne said, looking out to us from the other side of the passthrough.
“All good,” I said, because while I knew he’d been given some information, I had no idea how much exactly, and I didn’t want him drawn into a werewolf conversation. I couldn’t believe I’d been drawn into a werewolf conversation.
He grunted and turned back to the kitchen.
“You look like a Cinnamon,” Ben mumbled, giving Table Fourteen—Grenadine—a sideways look.
“Careful, wolf, or I’ll have you lick my calves,”
“Specific,” Ben said.
“He has nice calves,” Rae said.
I was keeping my eyes on the salt, the tiny white grains raining down into the shakers. No one spoke for a good fifteen seconds.
“So are we doing it?” Grenadine asked.
Rae cleared their throat. “Amory. I was thinking—”
Ben chuckled. In the windows-turned-mirror, I saw Rae frown.
“I was thinking, we should post something on social media. A little video.”
“You’re not putting my face on social media,” I said, keeping my voice calm. I hoped it was calm. My fear with social media was and always had been that my family would see me and…I wasn’t sure. I just knew I didn’t want to be on anything where they could find me.
“If you say so. But for the diner. A little video for the diner. So people know it’s a nice place. Welcoming and all that.”
I pointed back over my shoulder with my thumb. “Dwayne’s right there in the kitchen. Just ask Dwayne. Why are you asking me?”
I saw Dwayne, hairnet and all, look back out through the passthrough. “Kid, if you wanna do a video, that’s okay, but don’t tell everyone about the Pride cupcakes. I have another batch in the oven, but we seem to be out of them all the time.”
Dwayne was not usually a traitor like that, and I didn’t even catch his eye when I turned around, just his upturned thumb.
“It’s okay then?” Rae beamed, rubbing their palms, clearly much too excited.
“Wait, I’m getting my Bluetooth speakers,” Grenadine said.
“I’d best not appear in any video either,” Ben said.
“Rae, what—”
Before I could ask a sensible question, the bell above the door chimed. Rae and I both turned, and said our Welcome to the Moonlight. They added a little twirl while I very nearly spilled salt all over the counter.
Walking into the Moonlight came four leather daddies. Well, I hoped that was the correct terminology. I didn’t really know, but it was the first thing that came to my mind; four broad-shouldered leather daddies. One of them was wearing a purple fake fur coat. Probably because it was chilly with the harness alone.
“Oh,” Rae said, but they didn’t say it like a normal person would. The single sound came out halfway between excitement and orgasm. “Hi, Daddies!”
“Well,” the one in purple fur said. “I guess we found the place, boys.”
They all stopped to look me over, barely paying any attention to Rae. Then Purple Fur nodded at me. He was a serious-looking dude under all the fur and leather. All of them were Ben’s size, and all that leather gave them a certain…I didn’t know, but it definitely made me give them my undivided attention, salt shakers or not.
The one next to Purple Fur had a carefully maintained beard, tight shirt, and gloves that didn’t even cover his wrists. He said, “We’re just passing through. The parade here is nice, and the bar scene is quite something. We’re looking to have some dinner in peace. May we sit?”
That sounded way too formal for any regular patron, meaning they were most likely pawns, supernaturals.
“Of course,” I said. “Take any table you want.” Purple Coat was about to open his mouth, when my error occurred to me. “Except table three! Sorry.” I pointed at table three, Soyer’s table. “Not that table.”
“Thank you,” Purple Coat said, and the quartet headed to take table five.
The two women at table seven—the Marys, whatever kind of pawn that was—both turned to stare openly. Table eleven, Liam and Dave, also stared, if less openly. Very much interested though.
“You four look fun,” the blonde Mary said, pushing back her glasses the exact same moment the brunette sitting opposite her did.
Purple Coat winked at her. “Thank you kindly, but maybe more fun than you can handle.”
“This is perfect,” said Grenadine, putting a Bluetooth speaker down on the counter with a thud.
He had also taken off his tracksuit. And yes, he was wearing clothing underneath. The best way to understand what he was wearing was imagining one of Freddy Mercury’s stage outfits having sex with a rainbow, then both of those coming all over the colorful blend in a mess of sparkly rhinestones. And, for some reason, a feather boa.
“What in the hell…?” I said.
Ben chuckled. “Oh, this will be good.”
“You a friend of Amory’s? Nice feather boa,” Dwayne said from the passthrough, but then he vanished again, not putting a stop to…the something that was happening.
Grenadine spun. “Gentlemen, we are sorry to impose, but we need your help,” he said to the leather daddies.
“Let me get them menus first,” I said, but Rae tsked at me.
“You keep busy with the salt. And don’t look so shocked. What are people going to think?”
Roland at table one was looking up from his phone and frowned deeply.
“Roland! You are not leaving,” Rae said.
“Huh? What is this? A hostage situation?”
“It’s not a hostage situation when you get free rainbow cupcakes,” Rae said.
One of the leather daddies, a blond and blue-eyed man who’d shaved one side of his head, looked up and focused me in a stare. “Is this true? There are free cupcakes?”
I was dumbfounded. I nodded.
Rae leaned forward, hitting a button on the speaker.
Music flooded the Moonlight, something made for dancing, something that should bounce off a disco ball. Then again, Grenadine could pass for a rainbow disco ball in that costume. As I watched his bedazzled butt—an accident when all I wanted to do was look at the salt shakers—he started moving his hips.
It was magic, the way he moved. I couldn’t follow the flow of limbs, but it was beautiful, exquisitely graceful, enthralling. He deserved that costume. And all the rhinestones.
Something occurred to me, and I veered off toward Ben just as Rae jumped up on the counter. And began dancing around my salt.
“Is Table Fourteen a stripper?” I whispered to Ben.
“Yup. Good one too.”
I let that sink in. Not so much about Grenadine, who I didn’t know. But apparently Ben knew strippers. It surprised me, because he was always so formal. Unless he shifted into a massive werewolf.
As I watched, using Ben as a shield, Rae and Grenadine were dancing, Rae on the counter, Grenadine in front of it. I saw Dwayne look out from the passthrough, telling Rae they’d scrub the counter clean when they were done, which they acknowledged with a twirl of their hips. Then Dwayne simply went back, coming out a few minutes later with a fresh batch of rainbow cupcakes on a tray. I didn’t know whether I should feel betrayed or what, but at least, failing to uphold order clearly wasn’t my fault alone.
Dwayne remained standing next to me, and the three of us watched as Rae jumped off the counter and they and Grenadine danced their way from Roland to the leather daddies, three of which got up and joined the wreathing dance show my new colleague and their stripper friend were putting on.
The Marys were busy filming the whole thing. Liam and Dave as well. It was a show. With a conga line of leather, rhinestones, and feathers.
“This is good,” Dwayne said.
My eyebrows went up. “Huh? But you always say music gives you headaches.”
“Once a year, it’s fine. And this is marketing. We have all those fancy napkins with the logo. We need to use them. And I’d rather have more kinksters in here than—you know. The more colorful, the better.” He grunted, shook his head. “I still can’t get over the fact I bought all those napkins just before the fire. Damn waste.”
That was a lot of sharing for Dwayne. He seemed to know it too and went back to the kitchen before I could apologize for burning his yearly supply of napkins. I wasn’t even sure he’d been told I’d done the burning.
Instead of thinking too hard about that, I focused on watching Grenadine move. There was some grinding, rainbow sparkles against leather, but both the daddies and he seemed to have fun.
“Is there always dancing at the Moonlight?” one of the daddies asked, the blond dude with the half-shaven head. He asked it right at Rae’s phone.
“No, only on special occasions.” They leaned over the counter to grab a rainbow cupcake. “And only during Pride Month, free cupcakes as long as they last for our patrons.” They held it out to the blond. “And for all Daddies.”
“You should ask before calling me that, but I’ll forgive you.” The blond bit into the cupcake right there, eating it out of Rae’s hand.
Rae recited our address like they did that all the time. “And done. Will this do?” they asked Roland, shaking their phone at him.
“What are you asking me for?”
They gestured. “You’re always on your phone, and I happen to trust your judgment.”
“Can’t go wrong with having a hot guy eat baked goods on camera,” Roland said with a shrug.
“Hidden gem over there. Hmm. Thanks.” The blond winked at Roland.
“Yeah, whatever, but also, no, thank you.” He looked at me. “Can I get one of those cupcakes to go, please?”
“Uhm.” The music was still on, and Grenadine was still dancing. The blond was sizing up Roland openly. I tried not to grin, but failed. “Sure, I’ll make an exception for you, Roland.”
The writer was still coming in earlier than before the fire, which was good for him, because he managed to grab his table just before we got an unusual Friday night Pride wave of patrons.
At one point, Dwayne looked out from the passthrough. “Rae. Did you clean that counter?”
They nodded, patting the newly gleaming surface. “I did.”
“Did you also advertise our cupcakes in that dance video of yours? Like I told you not to?”
Grenadine, who had put his tracksuit away in a small duffel bag, had since moved to the counter. “Our video. I’m a better dancer than Rae. Not even a contest.”
Dwayne snorted. “I’m making more cupcakes. I’m almost out of blue food coloring for the frosting.”
Rae smiled at Dwayne. “Everyone loves your cupcakes, Dwayne.”
He grunted, turned back to the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah.”
I looked at the diner. All the tables were taken, even Soyer’s, and almost half the seats at the counter as well. There were three cupcakes left, and I was wondering whether I’d be able to save one for Soyer. There wasn’t all that much pie left either, and just two slices of cherry. Just when I considered what to do about that, the door chimed again.
“Welcome to—oh. Elias.”
The vampire in a tailored suit that didn’t match his messy black hair huffed. “Is this how it is? We’ve had juice together, you and I. It’s practically breaking bread when the actual thing is not possible.” His eyes widened. They looked moist. “I thought you liked me. I built a website with video capabilities because I like you. I know you have my contact information. And yet, I am ‘Oh, Elias’ to you and have to find out you did a dance video to advertise ‘hashtag Pride nights’ at the Moonlight without even telling me?”
Grenadine, for some reason, lowered his head, getting very focused on his water with a slice of lime in it. The four leather daddies managed casually interested looks at Elias without openly staring.
I lifted my hands, palms out. “I had nothing to do with that. Complain to Rae.”
“Who?”
“Rae. You know who Rae is.”
Elias tilted his chin up. “Rae and I do not have regular juice dates. You and I on the other hand…”
I sighed. “Okay. Sorry. Do you want a milkshake?”
He brightened. “Oh, yes, please, Amory! Chocolate, please.” He slid into a seat at the counter, folding his hands under his chin, his grin and puppy eyes daring me. Part of me wondered whether to just give him the damn chocolate milkshake and let him—I didn’t know. Get spanked for it? Who was I to kink-shame? Then again, I couldn’t quite bring myself to go for the chocolate syrup. Something about Elias definitely triggered my long-forgotten older brother instincts.
I fixed him a vanilla milkshake with a perfect cream top and chocolate sprinkles. I put the baby blue, pink, and white straw in through the cream in just the right angle to make it a very photogenic drink, in my opinion, then placed it in front of Elias.
His eyes got bigger. “Amory. Did I order this?” he asked, sounding teary.
“Valentin ordered for you,” I said, and name-dropping who I knew was one of the two most important vampires in Elias’s life made me feel like I almost had a handle on the supernatural world. At least for all of five seconds.
“Aaaaw, you’re so mean,” Elias said and let his head drop on the counter. “Can I get extra cream on the side at least? Please?”
I sighed. There were other tables I needed to take care of. I hadn’t even brought the writer his coffee. But Elias was being very much Elias tonight.
I spiraled a pretty cream dome onto a saucer for him, which made me imagine him like a cat. Before bringing it over, our eyes met, and his were wide and hopeful.
“Can’t believe this,” I mumbled, turned around, and topped the cream with chocolate sprinkles. Then I put that tiny monstrosity in front of him. “Here you go.”
“Hmm.” He straightened and looked at the milkshake and the cream, then took out his phone. I heard the shutter. “For your information, I’m posting this, saying if you ask very nicely, the waitstaff here will work extra hard. And give you extra cream.”
Rae stopped next to me to plate up the last three cupcakes of that batch and one of the two remaining slices of cherry pie. “And you’re accusing me of workplace harassment?”
“We’re close friends, and you are colleagues,” Elias said.
This shift was starting to feel really long. “I’ll be right back. Enjoy your milkshake, Elias.”
“Hah. Vanilla. So not my thing,” the vampire said, which was fine. If I’d learned one thing about him it was that he liked having the last word.
I brought the writer his coffee next. He had his notebook lover out tonight, but moved it aside as soon as he saw me coming. I tried not to stare anyway. My fantasy about his fantasy lovers would’ve made me feel like a Peeping Tom if I’d stared.
“Would you like a menu, or do you know what you want?” I asked. Since he’d started coming in early, well before the kitchen closed, he’d also started eating food other than pie with his midnight coffee, but not always. And he had a strong preference for the antipasti and hummus sandwich.
“I…” He swallowed as if he were struggling to get the words out. As if he were struggling to confess to his notebook lover, my story-spinning brain made me think. “The antipasti and sourdough, please,” he said, only meeting my eyes briefly. The guy was really shy, and I felt sorry that it was so crowded tonight. At least it hadn’t ruined his appetite. “And—” he said right as I was about to turn. “A slice of cherry pie. Please.”
I smiled and nodded. “Coming right up.”
Sorry, Soyer, I thought, wondering how I could make up for the lack of cherry pie and his preferred table when my witch-hunting boyfriend finally got here.
Soyer got there at a little after midnight. Elias was still at the counter, making sure I could see him dealing with the hardships of finishing a vanilla milkshake while I was serving the four leather daddies dessert and fresh cupcakes and everyone else in my section their order too. A lot of people were taking photos of themselves and their food, and some asked Grenadine and Rae for photos as well. I was fine just being in the background.
“What a Friday night,” Soyer said, sliding into the seat next to Elias. His black eyes were trained on me, his black hair looking like he’d had a shower just before coming here.
I leaned on the counter in front of him. “Rae did a promo post. Or video. They and their friend.” I looked over to Grenadine, but he was really hiding now, or trying to. No amount of ducking could make that glowing costume of his vanish.
“I saw,” Soyer said, not even bothering to look at where Grenadine was sparkling. “You didn’t dance. I was waiting for you to enter the frame.”
My cheeks flushed. “I just serve food. I don’t dance. I really can’t, not like the two of them.”
I glanced over to one of the leather daddies, who was walking over. It was the guy with the purple fur coat. He stopped one seat over.
“Black Shuck, may I—”
“I’m busy,” Soyer said.
The guy’s head dropped. I bit the inside of my cheek, not sure what to do. These guys had been nice enough to go along with Rae’s dance thing earlier.
I wasn’t sure whether to say anything, but before I could, Soyer heaved a sigh and said, “But apparently Amory here is willing to allow you to barge into this conversation I was just in the middle of having with him.”
Elias looked on with big eyes, noisily slurping his milkshake.
“That’s kind. I appreciate it,” the guy who was a good half a head taller and twice as broad said to me, inclining his head. I didn’t understand pawns, but they sure made me feel awkward when I was least expecting it. “I and my clan members were in the city. For the Pride festivities. But we’d also like to thank you for what you did at the—” Soyer hissed. The pawn stopped, regrouped. “We wanted to thank you. Thanks to you, one of our own was able to return to us. Thank you.”
“That’s it?” Soyer asked.
“If you’d accept our gratitude—”
“Not interested.” Soyer’s eyes refocused on me. “Bye now.”
If the leather daddy was angry, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded at me, nodded at Soyer, and headed back to his table.
I leaned forward. “Why were you so rude?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Hmm. It’s really packed tonight, isn’t it? So many ears, so many sequined butts in these bar chairs.” I was pretty sure I heard Grenadine gasp at that part. “Rae.” Soyer waved them over.
Rae made for him in a beeline when, usually, they gave him and me space. “Yes, Mr. Bennet?”
“Amory is not feeling well. I’m taking him home. Can you handle everything?”
“But, Soyer, I—”
His eyes twinkled. “My heart, you didn’t save me any cherry pie tonight. This will be your atonement.”
“Aaah,” Elias said, cradling his chin on his hand and smiling like the overdose of sugar he’d had was making him see cotton candy.
I just stood there, face going red.
“Of course. Not a problem,” Rae said, nodded, and was off.
“Soyer, you can’t just—”
“Hush. Don’t you want Ben to get off of work early tonight?” He crooked a finger. “Come over here before I jump over there and get you. And leave your jacket. It’s warm enough outside.”
“But…”
He shrugged. “Counter isn’t that high. Not high enough to keep me off you.”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking. It was possible. It was also possible he wasn’t. Soyer was a man of action if he wanted or needed to be, and I’d have to be a fool not to see the desire in his eyes.
I took my phone from my apron and left the apron right there on the counter, putting the phone in my back pocket.
“Bye, kid,” Dwayne said when I walked past the passthrough. I looked up at him, and he shrugged. “He texted me. I said Rae’s fast enough on their feet to do a few hours solo.”
I sighed. “He could’ve told me that.” And then I smiled, because even if he hadn’t, it was sweet. Romantic. “Bye, Dwayne. And thanks.”
Dwayne grunted, going back to cooking.
“You’re off,” I told Ben when I passed his end of the counter.
“Yes, I heard. Have a good evening, sir.”
Ben was still weirdly formal on and off. I wasn’t sure I’d ever fully get used to it. When I walked by the leather daddies and Grenadine, when Soyer slid off his stool and held out his hand for me to take, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I had burned for this man. I would do anything for him.
The staircase was dark, and Soyer led the way with the flashlight of his phone.
“Can I change my stance on the surprise?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “You’re getting it.”
“You didn’t say anything about a creepy old building without electricity.”
“It’s old, not creepy, and it has electricity. Just no lights here, which is by design.”
“Who would put no lights in a stairwell?”
“Vampires.”
“Oh.”
Soyer chuckled. “I didn’t want to surprise you with that. Come on.”
We went up two more flights, then stopped. I saw a heavy metal door outlined in Soyer’s phone light, but he stopped before taking me through.
“We’re doing it properly. Close your eyes.”
“Huh? What’s this even about?”
He put his flashlight underneath his chin and said, in a mock-scary voice, “Close your eyes, Amory.”
I chuckled. “Okay, fine. I’m trusting you here.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, heard him suck in a deep breath.
“Those things you say to me, my heart. Your trust is a gift. Ready?”
“I don’t know, but I guess so.”
I squeezed his hand and felt him pull me along. The door opened with a tiny sound, not the squeaking of metal I had expected. Someone took the time to oil it, then.
“Okay, over here. Lift your right foot—yup, two more steps. Perfect, stand right here.” He took both my hands and brushed a kiss against my chin. “Open.”
I did. My jaw dropped. We were on a rooftop terrace, a fancy one, fake grass, a hammock over by some solar panels, comfy chairs, and, most noticeably, lanterns. Strung all over the place, there were lanterns, some rainbow ones, mostly regular white ones, as well as fairy lights. The illumination was magical. Like my Soyer.
“Whoa.”
“Happy three-month anniversary,” Soyer said.
I stared at him. “Come again?”
He shrugged. “To the day, actually. Well, depending on how you count. I counted from when you first called me Soyer.”
There was the smallest hint of insecurity there, thin as thawing ice above running water. Seeing him like that, it made my heart squeeze tighter.
I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “You didn’t say a word. And that on the day I didn’t even save you a piece of pie! Thank you, thank you so much.”
He chuckled. “My pleasure. The cherry pie thing works out in my favor. I can extort kisses from you to make up for the lack of pie.” He stroked my cheek. “There’s dinner.” He pointed to a table set neatly with a white tablecloth and food on heated plates. “Chef sends his greetings.”
I gasped. “You’re reenacting our first date.”
He looked into my eyes, then put a hand on my neck, gently running his fingers over that sensitive spot. “That night, you didn’t go home with me. You left me at the curb, wanting you. Will you come home with me tonight, Amory? Please?”
I smiled. “How can I say no to that?”
He drew me in for a kiss which started out sweet, soon deepened. I felt him dig his hand into a pocket of his half coat, and music, soft and slow, bubbled up around us from unseen speakers.
“I’m sure you can dance if I lead you,” he whispered in my ear, his lips having wandered.
“I think I can do anything if you lead me.”
We started swaying, not really dancing, just following the rhythm, arm in arm.
“Don’t tempt me. It makes me want to lead you astray, makes me want to lead you where only I can have you.”
I chuckled, tucked a strand of hair back behind his ear. “What I want is for only you to have me. I love you, Soyer.”
In his deep eyes, desire and love warred, made peace, became something else. “Amory,” he said, just my name, and yet that single word seemed to carry so much weight when he said it.
It was enough to keep us going, to let us be close for a long while, one song ending and a new one beginning over and over. Above us, the sky was bright with stars and a sliver of moon. It was like a dream, him and me, dancing in the darkness like two phoenixes in flight, wings touching under a moonlit sky.
My Soyer. My moonlight phoenix.